


Cain

by Sir_Bedevere



Series: First Born [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Anxious Crowley (Good Omens), Childbirth, Crowley Loves Kids (Good Omens), Gen, Mild Blood, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 22:16:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20415190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sir_Bedevere/pseuds/Sir_Bedevere
Summary: An angel watches over the birth of the first child, afraid that he will be punished for his mercy.A demon watches over the birth of the first child, afraid of his guilt.





	Cain

The cave was cool, and deep enough to protect from the heat of the beating desert sun. By rights, there shouldn't have been a cave at all. There hadn't been, until Aziraphale put it there.

The prayers had done for him, in the end. 

Adam had been praying, begging God for something, anything, to help Eve. Aziraphale hadn’t heard the man beg for anything before. He and Eve had gone bravely forwards from Eden, one foot in front of the other, and they'd never looked back. But when Aziraphale found them months later, drawn to them by the cries on the stilting, hot breeze, he found Adam on his knees in the glistening sand and Eve sobbing at his side, clutching her stomach. Their courage lost, and no one was answering them.

No one _would_ answer.

Aziraphale had already done too much. He'd given them his sword. He'd risked whatever he had, and one day he was sure he'd pay for it. When Heaven found out, surely his transgression would be punished. And the punishment would be great.

But Adam was praying, his dark head bowed in humble submission, and Eve was so afraid that Aziraphale could taste it. They had been tempted to this life, defenceless against a Hell they did not even know existed. Trusted a creature that looked, for all they knew, like any other God had created.

_God did create him_, a small voice whispered in his head. 

That thought he shook carefully away.

In theory, of course, he understood what was to come.. He’d stayed in the garden long enough to see some of the new animals bring forth young. But a rabbit was one type of creature, a bird quite another, a human further still from either of them. And whilst he might now recognise the mechanics for what they were, neither Adam or Eve had seen the theory in practice. And anyway, they were different. Humans were designed to be different. So He couldn't leave them alone. He didn't _really_know, any better than they did, what was going to happen when Eve's time came.

But he did know that Adam loved her, deeply, so afraid that what was to come would take her away. And she loved him, with a fierceness of the lion they'd fought, so afraid that what was to come would leave him alone. Aziraphale could sense their love, powerful and overwhelming, like nothing he’d ever felt in Heaven, and he couldn't leave them. They loved one another and a part of them loved Her still, or else they wouldn't ask for Her help. In the end, Aziraphale thought that mercy would serve Heaven better than spite. 

He hoped She would agree. 

So the cave appeared, safe and covered, a little way from where they were humbling themselves. And then he waited for them to find it. If they found it themselves, he could almost pretend he had nothing to do with it. It was Eve who saw it, sprawled on the shifting sand, curled around herself. Or rather, she saw Aziraphale sitting cross legged near the entrance, gazing across the distance at her. He did not move. If he did not move, perhaps she would think her feverish mind had conjured him in her hour of need. He did not know what they remembered of him from the Garden, whether stepping beyond it had addled their memories of that holy place, whether they would eventually forget there had even been a Garden at all, let alone an angel who had given them the sword tied at Adam's waist. But they did remember God, or else they would not plead with her. It was their punishment, he was sure, that they should remember Her at least. 

As Adam lifted Eve in his arms and carried her towards the cave mouth, Eve put out a hand and brushed her fingers over Aziraphale's hair as he sat impossibly still. But she didn't speak, and if Adam knew he was there, he didn't show it. 

Aziraphale made the cave deep, with a pool of water and a fire already burning there. Let them believe that God had provided for them, given them a place of refuge in their greatest hour of need. Let them believe Her merciful to her wandering children, for surely they were supposed to believe that She was. Adam laid Eve down at the fireside and circled around the flames, eying them nervously. Then he glanced around and took the sword from his waist. The fires upon it had long since burned away, but as he placed it carefully at Eve’s side, he searched the shadows around them, and Aziraphale understood. So he stepped out from his hiding place and put his hands together, as if in prayer. Adam gazed at him and nodded, nudging the sword with his foot. 

I remember you, he seemed to be saying. You have given us many things. 

Aziraphale didn’t speak. Deniability. If he didn’t speak, no one could say for sure that he had been here.

Adam seemed to take comfort from his presence, at least, and put down the rest of their meagre possessions. A mat and a bucket, woven from reeds they must have found at the edge of some oasis. A skin from some unfortunate animal, fashioned for carrying water. How clever Her children were. Driven away with nothing, and now they already had invented weaving for themselves. She should have been so proud of them. 

Aziraphale wondered if She was here.

Adam picked up the bucket and the skin, turned to see if Aziraphale was watching, and then ventured back to the pool of water. 

Eve groaned, low and animal, deep in her throat, and Aziraphale turned to her. This was his task, to guard them. It had been his only task. Adam understood it better than he did, it seemed. He took a hesitating step forwards, and her feverish eyes turned to him once more. She was sweating, clutching her stomach, and there was a curious wetness around her. It would not be long.

And although he should not, although he’d already done too much, Aziraphale gently laid a hand on her damp forehead. She sighed as he blessed her, and he waited for the lightning, the thunder, to be yanked away from here and back to face his charges, but none of those things came. Instead there was only Eve, calmer now, and she took his hand between hers and kissed it. 

Thank you, angel. 

Thank you.

As Adam came hurrying back with his water, Aziraphale retreated to the mouth of the cave. He’d shown Eve just enough of what he knew, what he understood was to happen. She murmured it to Adam, lips that had kissed Aziraphale’s hand soft against the man’s ear. Adam clutched her arm and nodded, his face pale.

And then the screaming began. 

_God, the screaming._

It seemed to last for hours, and perhaps it did. Aziraphale sat cross legged, his hands in his lap for the most part, over his ears when the sound was so pitiful and he knew there was nothing further he could do to help. 

Adam soothed her and cooled her, hurrying back and forth for water, but Eve did the work. The labour, and what labour it was. Around dawn, as a hazy night blue sky gave way to orange, there was a soft noise at the mouth of the cave, and Aziraphale turned to find himself eye to eye with the demon.

He scrambled to his feet.

“What are you doing here, demon?” he hissed. “This is no place for you.”

“Hard to miss the noise in a world this quiet,” the demon shrugged. “Sent me up to have a look, didn’t they?”

“Well, you can see for yourself,” Aziraphale grimaced. “The suffering you’ve caused. Were she still in the Garden, there would be none of this…pain, I am sure.”

A strange look passed over the demon’s face, and the hand at his side twitched. 

“I’m sure you know a great deal about pain, angel.”

Aziraphale felt a strange sensation on his skin, a prickling like a heat that moved up his neck and onto his cheeks. He raised his fingers to his face, to feel what was happening, and found nothing there except that same warmth. The demon – Crawly? Yes, Crawly – had turned his attention to the humans.

“Will it always be this way?” Crawly asked, his voice low. 

“I don’t know.”

Aziraphale turned away and resumed his watching. Crawly did not sit down, nor did he leave. So together they watched as the first human baby was born on the brand new planet Earth. Eve sobbed her way through the end of it, and Adam was covered in nervous sweat and up to his elbows in bright red blood when he pulled a tiny, mewling creature from between Eve’s legs. 

A baby.

Aziraphale clenched his fists and glanced up at the demon, who had come silently to his side. Crawly’s jaw was set and his eyes wide as Eve gave one last heaving push, and it was all over. Adam tossed the mess into the fire, then turned to the baby wailing in his arms. He carefully washed the the little thing and tried to wrap it awkwardly in their woven mat. 

There was a shuffling movement, desperate hesitation, and then Crawly was moving. He strode forwards, unwrapping the scarf from his head, and held it out to Eve. He was trembling. Aziraphale could see it from where he sat, frozen. A demon, here, and getting _involved_, showing himself. Eve did not seem to recoil at the stranger, and reached up to take the scarf. Adam handed her the bare baby, and she gently wrapped it tightly in the folds of material. When she looked up, Crawly had already turned around and was striding away. He passed Aziraphale, his eyes still wide and his hands clasped at his sides, and he did not stop. He strode into the desert and away.

Aziraphale did not move, and no one came. He was expecting it, perhaps Gabriel or Michael, with a message from Her, or even just the voice of the Metatron, giving Her children something, some peace or goodwill in their most trying time. But the skies stayed silent, and day turned once more to night, and there was nothing. They were truly alone. 

Adam, Eve and the baby slept fitfully those first few days, and Aziraphale watched over them, too cowardly to lay eyes upon the baby as Crawly had done. But on the sixth day, Adam scooped up the bundle and came slowly towards him. Turning his eyes away, he crouched in front of Aziraphale and held the baby for him to see. 

It was – beautiful. The most beautiful of Her creations that he had seen so far. A tiny face, soft in sleep, with dark tufts of hair and lips like the loveliest of cherubs in Heaven. Aziraphale found his finger gently smoothing the baby’s brow before he could stop himself. Adam smiled and looked down. 

“Cain,” he said, the first words he had addressed to Aziraphale as though he were truly there with them. “My son. Cain.”

“Cain,” Aziraphale whispered. 

And the sky still didn’t split open, the Heavenly horde still did not come to punish him, so he blessed the baby. Mercy, always show them Her mercy and perhaps they would return to her. Let them believe, at least have some hope, that they were not abandoned. 

That night, Aziraphale left them too. 

The next time he saw Cain, he’d be a man, covered once more in the blood of one who had loved him.


End file.
